Bloody Hell
by BinkyTwinky
Summary: America visits England and tries to cook him dinner. Yaoi, BL warning. Not work safe. US/UK


WARNING: This story contains copious amounts of boy love and sex. NOT WORK SAFE, and do not read if this isn't your cup of tea.

Also, I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia. Unfortunately.

"Bloody hell…" He mumbled as his hands fumbled for the set of keys hidden somewhere in his jacket. His emerald green eyes narrowed as he remembered the long ago days when his house needn't be locked. The world had changed in so many ways. The heavy gilded door slowly swung open with a click from the lock, and a soft candle lit glow hit England's face. Green eyes widened in shock, and quickly narrowed to slits. Who was in his house?

He stepped slowly into the foyer and saw his side table littered with half burnt and melting white candles. The remainder of the hall in front of him was darkened. The archway that led to the formal living room was dark. His eyes searched down the hall, his hand groped for something to protect himself. They landed on a tall pewter candlestick. He held it protectively across his chest and stepped further into the hallway.

After a few steps, the light hit his eyes. The kitchen. His muscles tensed and he gripped the candle stick tighter. One more step, and he would be in the doorway. The candle stick was raised above his head, ready to strike. And then he saw it.

The other man was standing in front of the wide, country sink washing something. His back was turned to the blond Brit. The dim lights illuminated the other blond, his was a more honey colored hue, soft and shiny. The usual bomber jacket was discarded, the Brit noted unhappily, on the counter. So unsanitary. That left the American in his uniform, the tan fabric pulling as his arms rinsed something in the sink. England stepped forward, forgetting to lower the candle stick. America turned, holding a shiny, wet cucumber. His blue eyes were wide with shock.

"Ar…thur." He stuttered and thrust his hands into the air. "Don't hit me." The cucumber flew ungracefully to the ground. England looked up at the candle stick and sighed, lowering it to this side.

"What are you doing here, Alfred?" The Brit sighed and looked around the kitchen. The scene told him all he needed to know. There was a cutting board sitting on the counter next to the sink. Sliced carrots and lettuce told the story of a salad in the making. The timer for the oven was set to go off in fifteen minutes. The smell of chicken wafted around the room. A pot of boiling water on the stove slowly cooked linguine noodles. Alfredo sauce simmered in a smaller pot next to the water.

Alfred smiled, seeing that the impending threat of being hit was past them. "I was making you dinner. You know, since your cooking sucks so much." He bent to fetch the abandoned cucumber as England chucked the candle stick toward America's head. It clattered against the refrigerator and dropped loudly to the floor. Shocked blue eyes stared at the dirty blond.

"What the hell?" America balked and stepped back against the granite countertop. He looked at the candle stick and back at the Brit in the doorway. "Are you trying to kill me?"

"Why are you making me dinner?" England fisted his hands against his waist, and tried to look as forbidding as possible. America stared unemotionally for a moment. His face broke into a huge grin.

"You're too cute Arty." He turned and deftly cut the cucumber into thin slices. "I'm making you dinner because you can't cook. I didn't want you to go hungry trying to eat those scones you like to make." England thought bitterly that he rather liked those scones. But in America's own special way he was letting the older nation know that he cared.

"You git." He smiled and walked up behind the taller man. His thin arms wrapped loosely around America's waist. He rested his chin against the middle of the other blonde's back, between the shoulder blades, and smiled.

America smiled to the sink and laid his hands on top of England's. He could be such and ass sometimes. He turned slowly so as not to disrupt the gentle hold England had on him, and faced the shorter nation. The smile never left his face. England looked up, not too sure of what was going to transpire. He wasn't sure if it was a pleasant surprise or not when America's soft lips covered his own in a small kiss.

"What's that for?" He asked softly when their lips parted. America only smiled in return.

"Go sit down so I can finish this. The chicken'll be done soon."

"Sure." England said simply, and did not move. Instead, he tightened his grip around America's waist and rested his head on the taller man's clavicle. America smiled and wrapped his own arms around England. He fit perfectly in the strong grip of the younger nation. He looked down at the languid green eyes and sighed, dinner be damned.

Another kiss was stolen, and soon it became heated and nearly feverish as both countries fought for dominance. It always happened this way between the two of them. Neither was willing to fully submit. A fight must be had first. A moan escaped England's lips as America's tongue flicked against his teeth asking for entrance. England happily obliged and nearly melted at the feeling of the hot muscle sliding around his own tongue. The kiss broke with panting. America's long fingers probed at the buttons on England's shirt, a soft curse filling the empty space of the room as he fumbled with them.

England's hands came up to assist, and were shoved playfully away by the other man. "No." he said simply and continued his ministrations. The hard work paid off as the green material fell to the floor. America's blue eyes narrowed at the sight of the white tank top that still adorned his lover's chest.

"No fair." He frowned and pulled the bottom of the shirt above England's head, smiling as the fruits of his labors appeared in the form of two small, pink, pert nipples. The skin of the man's chest ran smoothly down to his flat stomach and farther down to the soft trail of dirty blond hair that ran below the waist of England's belted pants.

The smaller nation looked indignantly up to the other man and frowned. His small hands fumbled with the buttons of America's uniform, slowly letting the fabric fall to the floor to lie with his own abandoned clothing.

Their hands flittered across each other's skin for a moment until their lips were caught in another heated kiss. America's firm body pressed tightly against England's softness. He smiled against their kiss and deepened it, sweeping his tongue inside the other's mouth, feeling little resistance. His hands slipped down England's body, twirling around the curly hairs and finding his way to the shiny silver belt buckle. With a flick of his wrist, the buckle was undone and the leather of the belt was being worked out of the belt loops. England groaned in anticipation. He had lost the battle for dominance, but God be damned if he was going to lose the war.

He dropped his hands to the top of his pants, and, finding the button and zipper, forced them open and down, leaving himself in nothing but his white boxers. America beamed and eagerly helped the older nation out of his boxers. A blush fell across England's face as America quite obviously looked his naked body up and down, a smile playing on his lips.

"Alfred," he said sternly. "I don't see how this can be an equal playing field." He gestured to America's pants with a smile.

"You talk too much." America grinned and captured another kiss, his arms wrapped around the smaller man, gently lifting him, turning him, and setting him on the counter top. England's blush spread to his ears as America's kisses wandered softly down his neck next to his ear. A breath escaped his parted lips as he felt the other man's teeth bite on his flesh.

America's ministrations slowly trailed down his chest, stopping shortly to tease the hardened flesh of England's nipples before continuing down toward the nation's hardening member. One slim hand wrapped loosely around it, while the other braced England's back. His hand pumped slowly at first, in time with the shallow breathing coming from the small, blond man on the counter. He could feel his own member hardening and straining against his pants.

"Alfred," the other nation breathed as the friction against his cock turned warmer. America's movements were becoming faster and more erratic. The feeling of the warm hand was gone suddenly, and for a split second England had time to wonder where it went. His eyes slid closed as a warm, wet sensation enveloped his cock. He looked down to see the top of America's head slowly bobbing up and down. He sucked and licked, and nipped one particular spot that sent a spasm through England's body.

America smiled as his mouth was filled with the other man's warm seed. He sucked and swallowed the sticky liquid before raising himself up to meet the other eye to eye. "Arthur," England smiled at the use of his whole name. He leaned forward and engulfed the taller man's lips in a searing kiss. His hands wandered to America's pants and unbuttoned them deftly. The zipper was forced down as America shoved the obtrusive things out of the way. He freed himself and sighed as the pressure against his engorged penis was relieved.

In one swift movement, America had lifted up the island nation, turned, and cleared off the kitchen table, laying the other down on top of it as gently as his rushed movements would allow. England panted and spread his legs, knowing that he was to be the bottom, and frankly not caring. America pressed his fingers to the other's lips, and they opened, enveloping the digits in warmth. When they were released, a thin line of saliva clung to the two bodies. It broke as America moved his hand to rest between England's legs. One finger gently pushed inside and a gasp escaped England's lips. Two digits, and the muscles tightened, making it hard for the man to stretch the other effectively.

"Relax Arthur," America cooed, hoping that it would help him to prepare his lover. A third finger joined the others as the muscles did relax with a sigh from their owner. A moment later the fingers were removed and England looked up expectantly. This was always his least favorite part. America smiled fondly at him, reassuring him the best he could. As he thrust inside the smaller man, he could feel those muscles tightening again. He made cooing noises in a small attempt to get the other to relax. He paused, looking at England and waiting until he gave the signal.

"Mm, Alfred," He sighed, shifting slightly under the taller nation's weight. "I think…" he paused, but America took it as a go, and pulled nearly all the way out, only to thrust roughly back in. England tensed and raised his upper body closer to America. His arms wrapped around the younger man's shoulders, he pushed his hips up to meet each thrust. His own erection had returned, and was now throbbing between their rubbing bodies. One hand snaked its way between them and grasped England's cock. For a moment, he couldn't tell whose it was, until he realized that it was his own. A blush filled his cheeks, and America smiled. He continued to thrust, being met each time by the island nation's jerking hips until the smaller man shivered, screamed, and came.

England's body went limp as America thrust once more, releasing his own seed inside his former mentor.

They looked at each other for a long moment, lying on the kitchen table. England was the first to realize – the chicken was utterly burnt to a crisp.

"You git." He sighed as America laughed and moved from on top of him.

Dinner be damned.

END

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So….this was my VERY first attempt at hardcore yaoi and Hetalia.

Woo for killing two birds with one stone. US/UK is just too cute to resist writing about. Let me know what you wonderful people think.

Should I write more, or just give up and live under a rock? Lol.


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